


A History of Flight

by bratfarrar



Series: Canon (more or less) [20]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratfarrar/pseuds/bratfarrar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Kriadydragon</p>
    </blockquote>





	A History of Flight

**Author's Note:**

> For Kriadydragon

When John's four, his uncle shows him how to make a paper airplane. John spends the next hour sending paper airplanes soaring down the stairs to crash into the front door.  
  
When John's eight, his father takes him flying in an old wood and aluminum biplane. And John wants to never come down again (except maybe to say goodnight to his mother).  
  
When John's eight, his mother gives him a kite. He flies it at his grandparents' farm after the funeral for his uncle, while all the grownups are inside, talking and crying and not looking each other in the eye. It's kind of lonely, outside all by himself, but it's better than the alternative.  
  
When John's twenty-four, he finally gets the chance to actually fly, and it takes every bit of self discipline he has to head back to the airstrip when it's time for him to land. But the feeling of being one with the plane (which is the only way to describe it, no matter how hokey it sounds) is worth every bit of frustration, all the hoops the air force has made him jump through to reach this point.  
  
When John's thirty-something (no one's keeping track anymore--no one who matters, anyway), he's sent off to Antarctica in disgrace, to play mailman and taxi-driver. But the ice is white and clean and holds no old bloodstains, the sky over the ocean is endless, and he's still flying.  
  
When John's thirty-something and a bit, he goes off to rescue his commanding officer (who doesn't like him) and a bunch of people he met a couple hours before (who might like him), in a spaceship that looks a bit like a breadbox. It flies like everything he's been dreaming of since he was eight, though, and that's all that matters.  
  
When John's thirty-something, a bit, and a couple years, he sits back in a chair that glows at his touch and flies a city.


End file.
